


want/need

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst, I'm Sorry, M/M, So much angst, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 17:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10995465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: On the way to Georgia...





	want/need

**Author's Note:**

> So I got the Anon prompt for "I want to you about my life" for Silverflint, and logically I turned it into this cry-fest. At least it's short ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The ship’s hold creaks beneath his solitary foot, it groans under the weight of his crutch, it cries out in agony as Silver sinks all the way down onto the floorboards and reaches an unsteady hand towards Flint. Flint who is fading before his eyes. Already, he is not truly there, corporeal before him, he is the empty seat of the future, the void at his side by the rail, the wind in his face, the whisper in the night. A memory formed and clung to with all of Silver’s might.

“I want to tell you about my life,” Silver says, his own words hollow in his ears, already a mere shadow of his former voice. What will become of him when Flint’s gone?

Flint raises his head, the smallest of movements as he sits on the floorboards of the hold. His chains rattle. Behold: the ghost of Captain Flint. His eyes are subdued, dim, and moss-green. Moss-soft. Silver wants to lie down upon a mossy forest floor and look at them for as long as Flint would let him.

“Why now?” he asks. Unlike Silver’s, his voice has not lost any of its sonorous qualities. It is sweet as honey, thick as molasses, and Silver wishes that he could kiss this untenable thing that cannot be held, any more than Flint can be held. Not anymore; not by him.

“I may never get another chance. And I wanted you to… I needed you to know… that I _wanted_ to tell you.” There are tears in Silver’s eyes, in his throat, choking him. Already, he imagines the long years of his life drawing out before him. That voice, the beautiful voice, forever haunting him, forever cursing him. “I want you to remember me. And when you do, I want you to be kind. Memory is a funny thing, isn’t it, Captain?”

“It is enough that you _want_ to tell me,” Flint replies.

There are tears falling from Silver’s eyes. Each one a perfect sphere of long-forgotten pain. A tear for each loss of his past, of his family, of his childhood, of his innocence. And now this too - of his maker, of his friend, of his partner. His love. He does not speak again. He does need to. Flint raises his hands, the shackles rattle again, and he wipes each tear from Silver’s face as they continue to fall.

Silver may never see this man again. You cannot walk into the same river twice, and Flint is so much more than a river. But he will feel the phantom trail of those fingers upon his cheeks until he cries his final tear.


End file.
